OnLocation

by Sindra van Yssel

  She was worried Kyle wouldn’t want to come away from his cricket match for dinner, but instead he sat down and attacked the food with gusto. “This is good,” he told her.

  She had the impression that he had hadn’t expected it to be. “Um, thank you.”

  “All that, and you can cook too.” He grinned.

  “Not bad, Terry,” Gallagher said.

  “Thanks.” She turned to Kyle. “Sorry to take you away from your cricket.”

  Kyle chuckled. “It goes on for a while. I enjoy catching bits, but I don’t need to see the whole thing every time.”

  “I’ll let you two chat,” said Gallagher, picking up his plate. He hadn’t touched his salad. He headed toward the living room and Terry heard the television go on a moment later.

  After a moment of silence that she found awkward, but which Kyle seemed perfectly at ease with, she decided to try to start a conversation. “I don’t know anything about you, really, do I?”

  “No.” Kyle smiled, but didn’t elaborate.

  “Um, what do you do for a living?”

  “I don’t. I have a little stashed away and I own part of an island.”

  “Independently wealthy, then.”

  “I earned what I have. And independently well enough off. I don’t need to own a yacht and an airplane.”

  “What did you used to do?”

  “I was in the SAS.” His eyes darkened.

  “What’s that?”

  Kyle frowned. “Look it up sometime if you want to know more. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  She stared at him. “You’d rather I just showed up at nine o’clock to be your sex toy and shut up in the meantime, wouldn’t you?”

  “That depends entirely on what you want to talk about, Teresa.”

  She didn’t feel like playing twenty questions with him. A big chunk of his life seemed to be off-limits. But wasn’t that what she’d told herself she wanted? No strings attached, just a kinky fling with a dark and dangerous man whom she wouldn’t see again after a week.

  She ate her food in silence. Kyle had signed up to do the cleanup after dinner, which was fine with her. Maybe cuddling and watching a boring foreign sport wasn’t a good way to spend the evening after all. She took her plate and silverware to the kitchen, set them down at the sink and headed back through the dining room to the living room. She could go out and take some pictures of the island at night, which would get her away from both men.

  The television was still on and she’d expected Gallagher to be seated at it but he wasn’t. The sliding door to the pool was open a crack so she looked outside; maybe he was swimming, although he seemed to avoid any unnecessary physical exercise. He wasn’t there, so he was probably out in the jungle somewhere or at the cove at the far end. Maybe he was taking more video. She didn’t want to work on her report, but she didn’t want to run into Gallagher in the dark either, so she headed upstairs. Maybe a nice long bath would do me some good. She got to her room and started unbraiding her hair.

  * * * * *

  Terry looked up from her email. She’d ended up working and, along with what she had found for places to shoot, she had sent Stegner her opinion that they could do better than Fleury Island for the Odysseus movie, although it would make a lovely location for something else. She’d gotten back an email that thanked her for her input, but they were going to shoot on the island anyway and the penteconter was already being towed on its way. She was steamed. Why am I here?

  As a result, she almost didn’t notice that it was 8:50, even though she’d been thinking about Kyle regularly since she’d gone upstairs. She was supposed to show up at Kyle’s door at nine, but he’d said something about dropping off clothes for her to wear for their “date”. Ten minutes or even ten seconds to his room wasn’t going to be a problem, but if she had to get dressed for it too that was another matter. She opened her door and saw a box there as he’d promised. She was tempted to ignore it. He was the most arrogant man she’d ever met. She picked up the box and put it on the bed, aware that she was wasting time.

  I should tell him that I’m not going to follow his every whim. That I’m not willing to be punished when I’ve done nothing wrong. But she knew she wasn’t going to do any such thing. She wanted his hands on her again so much she could feel them. Which was crazy. He wasn’t even nice, for god’s sake. That he had in common with all those bad boys she’d dated before.

  But he’d been focused on what she was feeling—her pleasure or pain—and not his own. And that was very different indeed. There was something more to Kyle. And she wanted to find out what it was.

  She opened the box.

  She breathed in the scent of leather. Inside were four matching black cuffs with big steel rings dangling from each one, and nothing else.

  If he thought she was going to walk across the hall and knock on his door naked, he had another think coming. What if Gallagher showed up? She gritted her teeth. Of course he would punish her for not obeying directions exactly. That was probably the point.

  She relaxed. It was a game, that was all.

  She heard footsteps out in the hall, although she couldn’t tell which man they belonged to. She put the cuffs around her wrist. It would be embarrassing enough to be caught with the cuffs on, even if she was clothed. Although she could try to cover them. She buckled the cuffs around her ankles and pulled her jeans down over them. She unbuttoned the cuff of her shirt and rebuttoned it over the leather restraints on her wrists.

  Satisfied she looked normal enough, she picked up her cell phone and looked at the time. Eight fifty-nine. Cutting it close. She got up and opened the door, relieved to find the hall empty. She ran to Kyle’s door and knocked.

  He opened the door. He wore tight leather jeans and a scowl. She wanted to rub her hands all over his lightly furry chest and feel the muscles underneath her fingers. His face stopped her cold.

  “I’ll take them off when I’m inside,” she said hurriedly.

  “No, you won’t. You’ll learn to trust me instead.” He stepped back and closed the door. She stuck her foot out to stop it. He forced it away with his and shut the door anyway.

  Her heart pounded. Did he expect her to strip right there? She’d done it at the pool, but she’d known that there was pretty much no way Gallagher would be awake. At nine there was no way he’d be in bed. It had to be him she’d heard in the hall too—Kyle would have been getting ready for her arrival. So he was probably in his room. He’d probably heard her knock on the door. Maybe he’d listened to the conversation. If so, he hadn’t heard much. At least Kyle hadn’t told her to take her clothes off in any way someone else would understand.

  Trust him, Kyle had said. What did this have to do with trusting him? It wasn’t Kyle she was worried about, it was Gallagher. Dammit.

  She turned to walk back to her room, frustrated.

  There was a clattering downstairs and it took her a moment to realize it was something pounding on the glass door. Something big. Some huge thing from the jungle, she thought for a moment before remembering there were no huge things in the jungle. The island was too small to support that sort of thing, and Kyle said it was safe. The only thing that could be in the jungle to pound on the door was Gallagher.

  Kyle had locked him out.

  She should have trusted him. She supposed that she should let poor Gallagher in, but instead she unbuttoned her blouse and shucked off her jeans and panties. She took off her bra, wishing she’d gotten her underwear off in the room. She could have followed directions that much, at least, even if she hadn’t wanted to be seen. Kyle would be mad at her. She ran back to her room, tossed the clothes in the general direction of the bed and ran back to knock on Kyle’s door.

  He opened the door and chuckled. “A bit late to get full credit,” he said. “But I’ll punish you for being late instead. It’s four minutes after.” He stepped back. “Come in and kneel on the bed until I get back. I need to let your friend in the house.”

 
; She walked in and knelt on the bed, knees together, her body bent forward. He seemed amused at the moment, where she’d expected anger, but she felt better off looking at her knees.

  “No. Not that way. Head up.” He moved toward her instead of leaving to go downstairs, and pushed her into compliance with a nudge under the chin. “Back straight. Chest out.”

  She straightened, blushing at the display he was forcing her to make of herself. But the look of appreciation in his eyes was reward enough. He liked her curves despite her few extra pounds.

  “Legs apart,” he ordered. She moved them a few inches. He grabbed them and gently pushed them farther, past the point he needed to expose her. She felt her thighs stretch.

  “That hurts.”

  He grinned. “You think I don’t know that? It will hurt more while you wait, but I think I’ll be back before you have to break position. Make me proud.” He turned, and a moment later she was alone in the room.

  Chapter Five

  Terry looked around. It was a neat room, which she didn’t expect from a man. Certainly not the man who’d casually tossed clothes beside the pool. But every drawer was shut and there were no clothes on the floor. There weren’t even piles of dust in the corner. Perhaps he had cleaned for her, but there was something else about the room that struck her. The bed was a four-poster, with crossbeams on the top that could have supported a canopy. The wood, however, was all square, varnished but without any adornment, as if he’d made it himself. She wasn’t particularly shocked to find eye bolts in the wood, or to see chains clasps dangling from the bolts, but they made her shiver.

  The bed was made simply and neatly, with olive-green cotton sheets tucked into hospital corners, and matching pillowcases. He hadn’t done that for her, although possibly he normally left it undone. The chests of drawers and the nightstand had a similar appearance, all function with no attention to form. There were three photographs on the dresser. One was of four men in fatigues, one of whom was Kyle. It had been taken in some barren land and they were all crowded together to fit in the frame, grinning in obvious camaraderie, although their uniforms didn’t quite match. The other two were of breathtakingly beautiful women, one blonde and one brunette, in evening dresses. She must look very plain compared to them.

  I could break position. I’d hear him coming and could get back to it. There’s no reason for my thighs to ache like this. But she didn’t, even though the pictures of the women wounded her.

  He opened the door so softly she almost didn’t hear him, and was immediately glad she hadn’t moved. But she couldn’t resist nodding at the pictures. Sound casual. Don’t act jealous. “Girlfriends?” she asked.

  He looked where she was looking and frowned. “No. Those are my sisters. Karla is a lawyer in Melbourne. Kimberly is a doctor in Sydney. These photos were taken of them at a reception for the prime minister a few years ago. They’ve done quite well for themselves.” As she was watching Kyle, his expression changed. He was proud of them. This was the second time he’d told her what they did. “Not that it’s any of your business,” he added.

  His stepped between her and the pictures, and she became aware again of her nakedness and the way the position exposed her. Her legs ached, as he’d said they would, but she had managed to keep them apart. Now she wanted to close them for more reasons than one. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do with her hands now that he was here, but she was pretty sure that she wasn’t supposed to use them to cover herself. She tried to remind herself that he’d seen it all before, but his gaze was so intense it was hard to be casual about it.

  He reached behind her and grabbed her hair. She wondered if he liked it loose or if he preferred the braid. The braid probably made it more grabbable. “Your body is beautiful, Teresa.” He ran his other hand over her shoulder, down her arm, the side of his hand brushing the side of her breast. “I’m going to play with your body. I’m going to use you for my pleasure. I will use you so hard you will feel it for days.”

  She gulped, even as she felt her pussy tingle. His hand glided upward from her knee. If he reached between her legs she knew he would find her wet and assume she wanted what he was offering. Which she did. She just wasn’t sure it was safe to let him know that. She fluttered her hands, wanting to move them in the way.

  “Clasp your hands behind your back,” he told her.

  She did, thankful not to have to try to figure that out anymore, and became instantly conscious of how doing so pushed her chest out. He’d probably known it would.

  He moved his hand along her side, cupping a breast and weighing it in his hands. Clearly he liked what he felt and saw. With reluctance, he met her eyes again. “You came without permission. And you were late. You’re going to have to be punished, Teresa. Do you accept your punishment?”

  But I didn’t do anything wrong. Well, maybe I didn’t do quite what he asked. She was staring into his eyes, feeling every millisecond as he waited for an answer. His rules or my rules. That’s what it comes down to.

  “May I ask a question, Sir?”

  He smiled. “I see you’re remembering your manners again. Yes, you may ask a question, little sub. Is it pertinent to your answer?”

  “Yes Sir.”

  “Then ask away.”

  “Will you enjoy punishing me, Sir?”

  She’d startled him. She could see it in his eyes. Had no one ever asked that question of him before?

  “Yes, I will.”

  “Then yes, Sir, I accept my punishment.” Even if it’s kneeling this way. Every time she thought she was getting used to the ache in her thighs, she found the position harder to maintain. Being open to him, however, was getting easier and easier. The look of lust in his eyes as he gazed on her body was reward enough for that.

  “Good. I have something in mind, of course.” He stood up and reached out a hand to her. “Get up, please.”

  She nodded and unfolded her legs, relieved to get them out of that position. He helped her up. With his hand on her waist, he guided her to stand facing the end of the bed. When he chained her wrist to the bolt on one of the posts, she suddenly got afraid. She’d been expecting something like this, but it didn’t entirely help. She was going to be helpless with a man who’d promised to make her hurt. His observations that she was at his mercy just by being on the island may have made perfect sense, but the clink of chain brought it home to her viscerally. She pulled on the chain, which was pointless. All it did was clank. When he reached out for her other wrist, she jerked it away.

  To her surprise, he took a step back. She realized she could reach with her free hand and unclasp her chained one rather easily. He said nothing.

  She took a deep breath and then turned to face him. “I’m scared.” She felt less scared when she took in the expression on his face. He wasn’t angry the way she expected, or at least he wasn’t showing it. He seemed calm, relaxed. It was comforting.

  “I can tell. If I hold you, will that make it better or worse?”

  That was easy, although the answer would have been different if he’d been mad. “Better.”

  He moved to her and held her against him. She was glad he wasn’t wearing much. The warmth of his skin against her felt wonderful and right. She wrapped her one free hand around him. “Thank you,” she said. He kept on holding her. She took several deep breaths before saying, “I’m sorry, Sir.”

  He nodded and let go. For a moment there was a flicker of sadness in his eyes. “No need to be sorry,” he said. “And good job remembering your manners.”

  She turned back to face the bed, flattered by his praise but not sure why it meant so much to her. She didn’t feel she could voice her consent without tripping over the words, but hopefully he would understand. She reached her free hand toward the bolt on the other bedpost. He clipped her wrist cuff to the chain.

  “What are you going to do to me, Sir?”

  “Whatever I want,” he said.

  She tensed, even though on one level she loved
that answer. “Keep me safe?”

  “Of course. I want that too. I insist on it.”

  The fierceness of his voice reassured her. He crouched down behind her and tapped on the inside of her ankle. She moved her feet apart. He chained each ankle to the frame of the bed. She had wiggle room, especially for her hands, and that surprised her. She expected him to render her immobile and he certainly could have with shorter lengths of chain. Maybe this was all he had. She took a look at the chain on one wrist and decided otherwise, seeing that there were several links dangling free. He could make them as tight as he wanted, depending on where he put the clasp.

  “Are you going to spank me?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Flog me?” She’d enjoyed the flogger well enough. She was looking forward to more of that.

  “Maybe.” He came into her line of sight again as he walked over to his chest of drawers. She noticed how defined his shoulder blades were. He looked good in tight leather pants too.

  He took a flogger out of the drawer. The handle had an intricately braided knot at the end made of leather straps. It was longer and heavier looking than the one in her room, and black. Still, she thought she could take it. It wasn’t that much different. Her pussy moistened further at the thought of him using it on her. Maybe this wouldn’t feel like punishment after all.

  The flogger landed on the bed. “That is a reward,” he said as if he read her thoughts. He pulled out a riding crop and set it next to the flogger. “This one might be punishment. We will see.”

  She gulped. She didn’t know how it would feel, but that was part of the problem. She didn’t know. If he thought it was worse, it probably was.

  He took one more thing from the drawer before closing it, but it was small and she couldn’t see what it was. He held it in his fist as he walked behind her again. She turned her head to look at him.

  “Face front,” he said.

  She turned away reluctantly. She hated not knowing. Her heart pounded.

  “Close your eyes.”